Hello everyone, and welcome to my new story, The Legend Of Verity. I hope everyone will enjoy this story, the main character, Xenosis, was created by one of mi amigo's, Courage Of Awesome for my other story When Fates Intertwine, and she gets full credit for him. He's a great character!

Enjoy.

Playlist for chapter:

Leave A Trace by Chvrhes. (Yes, that's how its spelt.)

Psycho by Muse. (You HAVE to listen to this song! It's my favorite! I still can't imagine how a three-piece band can make such a fantastic sound! ...Watch out for the language though...It drops the f-bomb among other nasty words...)

Roots by Imagine Dragons.

P.s. No, this story is not, in any way, inspired by The Hunger Games. Don't even ask, i'm not a fan.

Chapter 1.

Sick Games

"Finish it!"

"Kill him! Kill him!"

"Slit his throat!"

They were like barbarians. Bloodthirsty and screaming for violence, employing other's, like her, in their sick games like pawns on a chessboard. She'd never seen so much blood. It was everywhere. On the ground, the walls, the spectators. Not that it really bothered her anyway. She hadn't cared about blood in years, she'd grown so desensitized to it. She saw it nearly every day.

She sat quietly, holding her head high, maintaining her air of aloofness. She didn't want the other's to sense her turmoil. She'd become a master of hiding her emotions, leaving nothing for anyone to see but a cold, cold smile.

"Yes! That's it! Slice him good!"

"Rip out his throat!"

"Gouge his eyes!"

They were like war cries outside the run-down hut she was confined in. She wasn't actually stuck there, no one had made her stay. She just found that it was easier to wait on her own. If she went out there, they'd be on top of her like a pack of dogs fighting over a scrap of grizzle thrown from the dinner table.

Her ears pricked when an agonized gasp ripped from beyond the thin red fabric the hung in the only doorway. She wondered if it had always been red. Or had it been stained that sickly color from previous trials. When the gasp had faded, it was replaced with ruckus cries of victory from the spectators.

One of the contestants was now dead. A small casualty in a bigger, bloodier game.

The curtains parted, and from the brightness beyond her master entered, his face awash in worry lines. His thick hands were tucked into the deep pockets of his leather vest.

"Kai," he said to her, pulling a hand from one of the pockets and stroking the gray goatee that partially covered his boxy chin. "You're up."

She didn't answer. Only stood with a flurry of red fabric at her hip. She cracked her knuckles as she walked, turning her head in either direction, getting herself limbered for what was about to come. She had to be ready. She'd been training for this moment for years. Her heart was pounding against her ribcage, suddenly she didn't feel ready. Her feet were moving faster than she wished they would. Suddenly, she didn't want to go out there.

Had she trained hard enough? Did she even stand a chance? A girl had never won this sick competition before. A mere few had even tried. What had made her think that she could even try? Of course, she hadn't had much of a choice…

"Me? Train a whelp like you? HA! Better luck elsewhere, shrimp!" And the door slammed in the young girl's face, leaving her to stand on he doorstep in the pouring rain. Her young body was riddled with cuts and bruises, ribs poking out from lack of food, eyes dull and sickly. Her hair, black as a raven's feathers, was plastered flat against her head from the drenching rain.

She stood there for a moment, thoroughly exhausted and fatigued. She was so tired, she felt as if she would fall any moment. And yet she turned, and strode into the forest behind her, mind set on her one last, flickering hope. There was one last place she could try. But only if she made it there before she died. There was a house deep, deep in the southern forest. Living there was a veritable legend among her people. A man by the name of Kage, known for training the best warriors ever to live.

There was just one problem. He'd been retired for over forty years.

No matter. Maybe she could win him over, coerce him into taking on one last student. It was her only chance at survival…

There was a sickly snap, loud as thunder to her ears, and as she released the older opponent, he fell to the bloodied earth below, screaming in agony, body shaking and writhing, his head lolling, only his skin and muscles keeping it on his shoulders. In a last gesture of pity, she picked up his knife, which he had dropped very early on in the fight, and plunged it straight into his heart. His face ripped in a last shriek of pain, then stilled, death taking him.

She only gave him a last glance before turning, met by a roar of outrage from over half the crowd gathered round the battlefield. Her master had an arm around her shoulder before she could take another step, his face contorted into a deadly snarl as the crowd encroached. Her chest was heaving, blood dribbling from her nose, utterly broken from a left hook and aflame in pain. During the battle, she had but barely felt the wounds she'd received. But now that it was over, she was plainly aware of how very battered her body actually was.

"She killed him!" one of the crowd screamed in murderous rage. "That wench killed my star-pupil!"

The accuser stepped from the crowd, his face torn into a look of crazed fury. Her master pulled her tighter against him, practically squeezing her to the point where she couldn't breath. For once, though, she wasn't about to complain. She wanted him to handle this. Right now it was taking all of her resolve just to hold in her lunch. She felt like she was going to wretch. It must have been that blow to her gut.

"I don't know what you want me to do about it, Silac. I mean, its part of the game, isn't it?"

"I want that wretch's heart! I demand punishment!"

"Ah, I get it now. You're just upset because your pupil got his ass whooped by a girl, aren't you? I bet my good eye that you wouldn't be throwing a baby fit right now if my student was a man, now would you?"

The aggressor's face paled.

"Hmm? What's the matter? Not used to being called out? Hahaha."

Her master started walking, pulling her with him. She was all too happy to oblige.

"Come along, my little warrior."

He brought her back into the hut they'd been given for the event. She sat down on the bench as soon as she could, finally letting herself go. She panted, there wasn't a part on her body that didn't ache. Everything was aflame. She hissed when he pressed a wet towel to one of the larger gashes she'd received, a cut that stretched from collarbone to her left shoulder.

When he continued to press despite her hiss, she glared at him. "Ow."

He paid her no attention.

"Ow." She said it a bit louder. Still no recognition.

"OW OW OW OW OW!"

"What?!"

"It hurts."

He didn't look amused.

"Yeah, well, I'd rather it hurts. At least this way it won't get infected."

She huffed. She hated it when he made sense. Now she had to let him continue to clean her without complaining. He tediously cleaned each and every cut she'd received, a fair few to be sure, washing them with a wet towel and smearing a paste that smelled like mint over each before wrapping clean linen over them. She could only hiss through a clamped jaw as he brushed roughly against her tortured skin. When he was done, he stood, and patted her shoulder.

"You did good out there. Get some rest."

She thought about his words once he had left, presumably to gloat to his peers and rub the bloody-loving noses in it. But her chances of survival were going downhill. Fast. She'd survived one round, but there were many more that'd she'd have to endure, each harder than the last. Her one saving grace was the fact that for tonight, she could rest, and recover. Tomorrow wouldn't be the same. One down. Five more bouts to go…

"Sir, I must insist that you're being unreasonable."

"Are you joking?! Five hundred rupees is a ridiculous amount to ask for such a cheep trinket!"

"Sir. This is no cheep trinket. It's an amulet of health imbued with the spirit of a fairy. It's a literal lifesaver. Five hundred is not an unfair price."

Xenosis Salem Valori sighed behind the counter of his small, traveling storefront. This was the one hitch of his job. He loved his job, traveling the world, finding rare and unusual treasures, meeting new and exciting people. But when a prospective customer turned out to be one of those people who always tried to lo-ball a merchant on his prices, it got on his nerves.

This particular treasure, like many in his cart, was completely unique and one-of-a-kind. How was he supposed to feasibly charge less than he was for such a rare piece of jewelry?

"Sir. I'm trying to give you the best offer that I can, but I must insist that you see it from my point of view. This amulet is the only of it's kind. It can literally save your life, and it took a lot of searching to find. The best price I can possibly give you is three hundred, it's a real treasure."

The man looked unimpressed. Without another word, he walked away, toward the small town not more than a mile to the east.

His shoulders slumped at the lost sale, putting the amulet back on it's display.

When he sat down on the stool he had, a small green creature crawled onto his lap, purring like a cat, but covered in forest green scales the glimmered light silver in the sunlight. The little dragon rubbed against his chest before settling down against him, lightly nibbling on his hand when he stroked her scales.

"At this rate, we'll be lucky to eat pancakes for the rest of our lives." He murmured to the little beast. She prickled at his words.

P-p-pancakes? I hate p-p-pancakes.

"I know, but they're cheap."

I want steak.

"Well, when you make enough rupees to buy yourself a stake, go right ahead."

She had no retort, but instead dug her claws ever so slightly into one of his legs. He yelped, and threatened to push her off, realizing only a second before it was too late that it might actually make the pain worse.

"I can't help the fact that we're broke, Kaine."

Sure you can. Stop charging a fortune for a necklace.

"Kaine, you know how much that thing is worth!"

You're too prideful.

"You're too greedy."

I'm a dragon. What do you expect?

He stood, forcing the little dragon to scrabble from his lap to instead take her usual spot atop his shoulder.

What are you doing?

"Packing up," he answered, gathering up his displays and loading them into the small wagon behind his stall. "No one's buying, and I'm freezing. Time to call it a day."

Looking around, the world was at its prettiest. The leaves on the trees were ablaze in a sea of yellow, red and orange, being lifted by the brisk wind and carried into the crystalline sky. The grass was yellowing as well, like an ocean of gold as far as the eye could see. Hyrule truly was a beautiful place. Even to a foreigner like him.

Very few people were outside when his wagon rattled into the village, pulled by a shaggy brown pony he called Mateo. There were but a few houses and buildings, and as he traveled further in, he found that there was no inn, no bar, no place to warm himself. What a poor choice he'd made in stopping in this village. The few villagers who were out and about gave him suspicious glares, and crude gestures.

It was very apparent that they didn't appreciate newcomers.

"Well, Kaine, you feel up to a ten hour drive? Or would you rather stop here and sleep in the wagon?"

She curled herself atop his shoulder, tucking her nose underneath one of her front legs.

It doesn't much matter to me.I can sleep whenever I want.

"A ten hour drive it is." He proclaimed with false joy. In all truths, he wasn't looking forward to the drive. He was tired, and depressed from the lack of cash in his pocket.

And so, as quickly as he had come, the wagon left through the other side of the village, headed north, toward the capital of Hyrule. Toward the bustling metropolis of light, music and color, a feast for the eyes and the soul, a paradise for artisans and those who traded in fine goods. Toward Castle Town…

Did everyone like it? This story starts out kind of slow, sorry about that. But I hope it will do well. Thanks to Courage for letting me write an entire story about Xen! You're, well, Awesome!

R & R People!